We've recently implemented a new chore chart around here. All was going well with everyone falling into routine quite nicely--until last night when Big Kid was doing his laundry round-up chore and I heard some stomping and muttering from the other room.
"What's up?"
Big Kid walked into the kitchen with an armload of clothes and a scowl on his face. "You know, it should be a law that no child should ever have to touch his mother's underwear."
Mr. Ashley and I looked at each other and laughed. "What?" Big Kid asked. "I'm serious."
And that's how Big Kid got his laundry round-up chore permanently reduced.
(Because he's right!)
Monday, January 10, 2011
Thursday, January 6, 2011
Moving Dogs
I know I've shared something from Hyperbole and a Half before but I've been meaning to share THIS ONE with you all. I read it a while ago and laughed until my sides hurt. I just came across it again and figured since we're talking about dogs, it must be a sign that now is the time to share it with you.
(Well, not really with the whole it being a sign thing but now is as good a time as any. And it's funny as hell.)
(Well, not really with the whole it being a sign thing but now is as good a time as any. And it's funny as hell.)
The Alpha Neighbor
So I have this one neighbor. She lives about 4-5 houses down on the opposite side of the street from me. I see her every day, twice a day because she walks her two dogs in the morning and again at lunch when I'm taking little kid to school. She stands out because she walks her dogs without a leash and has long glossy black hair and she just sort of leisurely moseys around the neighborhood.
Soon after we moved in, I would hear my dogs going nuts twice a day. I would look outside to see what was causing the commotion and there she would be, encouraging her dogs to sit and lie down on the sidewalk in front of my house. Weird, I thought, but whatever. After this happened for a few days in a row, I would walk outside to get the mail when she did it and say hi. She would focus her attention on her dogs and mostly ignore me, while my dogs were barking. I soon figured out that she was using my dogs' stupidity to train her dogs. Good on you for having all day long to mess with your dogs, lady, now go play Cesar Millan in someone else's yard. I get it, you win Good Dog Owner award, my dogs will never comprehend property lines and your dogs are clearly superior. Gotcha.
Well this morning as we were walking out the front door for school, I see her out there sashaying around the sidewalk with her dogs. I did the half head nod, knowing she would most likely ignore me because she is rude like that. I picked up Big Kid's backpack, not realizing it was caught on the edge of a glass side table and pulled the entire glass table over, watching it shatter everywhere. I glanced out the front door to see that she was watching, I looked at the mess again and realized I couldn't clean it up and get Big Kid to school on time so I told the kids to get in the car. I then saw her walking back up my driveway and she leaned down and placed a plastic bag next to my mailbox. Weird, I thought. Maybe it's the neighborhood newsletter or something.
As I back out of the driveway, I slow down to look and can tell that it's a Ziploc bag full of dog poop. Hating confrontation and not wanting to be late, I hesitated and then remembered the last neighborhood poop thrower and decided I couldn't let this get out of hand again. I hopped out of the car and grabbed the bag and yelled "DID YOU LEAVE THIS IN MY YARD?"
She stopped, about 4 houses down now, near her own home, and said, "Yes, I'm coming back for it later. On my way back."
WTF, lady? Why am I your personal poop receptacle? And you seriously looked at a disheveled mom who just pulled a glass table over and who you knew could see you and thought, "This is a good spot to leave this bag of crap."
She acted kind of bitchy about it too, like I was the bad neighbor for not understanding that she didn't want to carry her bag of poop. You know what, lady? No one wants to carry the bag of poop! That's the worst part of dog ownership! And no other neighbors think it's okay to drop your bag of poop off in someone else's yard for later pick-up.
I think she's trying to show her dominance over me and my dogs and I'm not sure how to proceed. Should I sniff her butt next time she walks past? Pee on her mailbox? Join my dogs in barking and growling at her and her dogs?
I don't know but I don't blame my dogs for not liking her.
Soon after we moved in, I would hear my dogs going nuts twice a day. I would look outside to see what was causing the commotion and there she would be, encouraging her dogs to sit and lie down on the sidewalk in front of my house. Weird, I thought, but whatever. After this happened for a few days in a row, I would walk outside to get the mail when she did it and say hi. She would focus her attention on her dogs and mostly ignore me, while my dogs were barking. I soon figured out that she was using my dogs' stupidity to train her dogs. Good on you for having all day long to mess with your dogs, lady, now go play Cesar Millan in someone else's yard. I get it, you win Good Dog Owner award, my dogs will never comprehend property lines and your dogs are clearly superior. Gotcha.
Well this morning as we were walking out the front door for school, I see her out there sashaying around the sidewalk with her dogs. I did the half head nod, knowing she would most likely ignore me because she is rude like that. I picked up Big Kid's backpack, not realizing it was caught on the edge of a glass side table and pulled the entire glass table over, watching it shatter everywhere. I glanced out the front door to see that she was watching, I looked at the mess again and realized I couldn't clean it up and get Big Kid to school on time so I told the kids to get in the car. I then saw her walking back up my driveway and she leaned down and placed a plastic bag next to my mailbox. Weird, I thought. Maybe it's the neighborhood newsletter or something.
As I back out of the driveway, I slow down to look and can tell that it's a Ziploc bag full of dog poop. Hating confrontation and not wanting to be late, I hesitated and then remembered the last neighborhood poop thrower and decided I couldn't let this get out of hand again. I hopped out of the car and grabbed the bag and yelled "DID YOU LEAVE THIS IN MY YARD?"
She stopped, about 4 houses down now, near her own home, and said, "Yes, I'm coming back for it later. On my way back."
WTF, lady? Why am I your personal poop receptacle? And you seriously looked at a disheveled mom who just pulled a glass table over and who you knew could see you and thought, "This is a good spot to leave this bag of crap."
She acted kind of bitchy about it too, like I was the bad neighbor for not understanding that she didn't want to carry her bag of poop. You know what, lady? No one wants to carry the bag of poop! That's the worst part of dog ownership! And no other neighbors think it's okay to drop your bag of poop off in someone else's yard for later pick-up.
I think she's trying to show her dominance over me and my dogs and I'm not sure how to proceed. Should I sniff her butt next time she walks past? Pee on her mailbox? Join my dogs in barking and growling at her and her dogs?
I don't know but I don't blame my dogs for not liking her.
Wednesday, January 5, 2011
Unreal Housewives
Hey look! Another pregnant man!
We went without cable (or satellite) from March to December. It was fine. No one cared, thanks to Netflix streaming on the Wii. There were a few awkward moments when the outside world would be discussing a movie or commercial or new show and I had no idea what they were talking about, but I really didn't care.
Then we found out we could have basic cable for $10 a month for the next 12 months and figured we'd have it hooked up--and so we were sucked right back into the world of television.
I can already tell my IQ has dropped at least 20 points. God, why do I care that this transvestite is having a baby?
I'm addicted to the entire Real Housewives franchise but Real Housewives of Beverly Hills is my favorite. I sit completely transfixed watching and waiting for any sign of life in Camille Grammer's forehead.
(There is none.)
I don't blame Kelsey Grammer for needing a drink or twenty to put up with her. The judge should only have to watch one episode before granting him a speedy divorce. I'm 100% Team Kyle. Camille is insecure and impossible to deal with.
I really want to be Lisa when I grow up. Or at least her permanent houseguest. She can cook, she dresses beautifully, she can arrange flowers, she runs successful businesses, she's gorgeous, she talks pretty, and she handles social situations with grace, class and humor. She's completely unlike all of the rest of those overly botoxed Beverly Hillbillies. I think her and Kyle would actually be enjoyable to be around. Possibly.
I am anxiously awaiting the return of the New York housewives, the Jersey housewives scare me (bitches be crazy!) and the Atlanta housewives make the South look bad. I do like Nene though.
The entire series is proof that money can't buy you class, happiness or good plastic surgery!
Friday, December 31, 2010
2010 Reading List
I wanted to do a best book of the year wrap-up post about all of the books I read this year and which were best and why but all of a sudden there's only hours left of 2010 and I have things to do.
So, without much fanfare, I'm going to say that The Art of Racing in the Rain
was by far the best book I read this year (and you can see the full list in my side bar). It was a clever, beautifully written, witty, poignant (I rarely use that word; I'm being serious here, people) story that I never wanted to read in the first place. My hairdresser told me about it and I thought it sounded dumb, I read the description and I thought it sounded dumb, I downloaded it from the library onto my Nook one day and couldn't pull myself away. It made me laugh and cry and think in good ways.
I LOVED this book. I didn't like this book, I LOVED this book and I wish I could make every single one of you read it.
I also really liked The Help
When I started it, I thought it was going to be cheesy and gimmicky with the Southern dialect and going back and forth between characters but it was well written, enjoyable and important. It would have gotten 2nd place on my 2010 list that will never be.
Most important book I read this year was Zeitoun
It's a true story that I can't believe we all don't already know.
My least favorite book was probably Between the Assassinations
I thought it was boring and didn't really go anywhere.
And that's our 2010 Reading List Wrap Up.
I hope you all have a Happy New Year!
So, without much fanfare, I'm going to say that The Art of Racing in the Rain
was by far the best book I read this year (and you can see the full list in my side bar). It was a clever, beautifully written, witty, poignant (I rarely use that word; I'm being serious here, people) story that I never wanted to read in the first place. My hairdresser told me about it and I thought it sounded dumb, I read the description and I thought it sounded dumb, I downloaded it from the library onto my Nook one day and couldn't pull myself away. It made me laugh and cry and think in good ways.I LOVED this book. I didn't like this book, I LOVED this book and I wish I could make every single one of you read it.
I also really liked The Help
When I started it, I thought it was going to be cheesy and gimmicky with the Southern dialect and going back and forth between characters but it was well written, enjoyable and important. It would have gotten 2nd place on my 2010 list that will never be. Most important book I read this year was Zeitoun
It's a true story that I can't believe we all don't already know.My least favorite book was probably Between the Assassinations
I thought it was boring and didn't really go anywhere.And that's our 2010 Reading List Wrap Up.
I hope you all have a Happy New Year!
Wednesday, December 29, 2010
The Christmas Story
I don't know what little kid did to piss off the Baby Jesus, but he got the stomach flu for Christmas. It was one of the most pathetic sights I'd ever seen; he plodded out to the Christmas tree on Christmas morning, took in the miraculous sight of all of those presents....and fell on his knees and started dry heaving and gagging. And then he barfed. Poor guy had to open up his gifts with a puke bucket next to him.
Regardless, it was a magical Christmas.
Around 5:30 a.m. I heard thumps, scraping and paper crinkling from the family room. Certain that Big Kid had woken up and was investigating or the grinch himself had come to steal Christmas (because a feverish little kid was next to me in bed speaking in tongues about Santa, so I knew it wasn't him), I got up and crept out of my room.
There was Big Kid, lit softly from the glow of the Christmas lights, looking impossibly tall in his new pajamas and holding a plastic grocery bag full of his own carefully wrapped gifts that he was thoughtfully arranging under the tree. He turned and saw me, eyes glossy and cheeks flushed with excitement and motioned toward the Christmas tree full of gifts, telling me that Santa had already come and that he couldn't believe he had forgotten to put his gifts to us under the tree the night before.
I think it will go down in history as one of my favorite Christmas memories; that among all of those brightly wrapped new things for him, he was thinking about his gifts to us and was excited to contribute to the pile of presents.
I forced him to go back to bed with me but after 5 minutes of him rigidly lying next to me and disturbing the quiet with his occasional excited whisper, I told him to go lie on the couch and read something from his stocking for 20 minutes or so and then to get back into bed. He scampered off happily.
I woke again an hour later, noticing that he was not back in bed and found him stuck in a kitchen bar stool.
"What are you doing?" I asked.
"I'm stuck in this bar stool. But read this stuff Harold left!" he answered, waving excitedly to our elf satisfaction survey, behavior summary report and the note on the kitchen island in front of him.
"You're stuck??" I tried to tug on him from behind but he was indeed stuck. "How long have you been stuck?"
"Ah, 5 minutes, maybe? But read the stuff, mom!"
"Were you going to call for me? I feel bad that you're stuck."
"I was going to call for you, but later. I know you're tired. Read the stuff." It took some wriggling and pulling but I did manage to free him from the bar stool and kept him quiet for one more hour until it was a reasonable time for present opening (if you can call 7:30am a reasonable time for present opening).
The kids loved their gifts; even poor little kid who stayed curled up on the couch, too sick to play with any of his toys. At one point he told me, "When I think of the presents you got for me, it makes me feel warm in my heart." That made me feel so warm in my heart. It made the sub-human conditions at Toys R Us worth all of the trouble.
They were also extremely proud of what they had gotten me. Big Kid bought me a singing snowman figure and a clip-on light.
"This will be perfect for my Nook!" I exclaimed over the light.
"Oh, I didn't even think of that! I saw you could clip it to your clothes or your car visor and I thought you could use that to have light wherever you went but it would be good for your Nook too!" (To his future spouse--I apologize for the practical presents in your future.)
little kid bought me a set of soap and lip gloss and swoons over how pretty I smell every time I get out of the shower, pumping me for information on how enjoyable the shower was and if it was the soap he bought that made it so wonderful.
They are grateful and generous little souls.
There was brief sadness over Harold's departure but he left a note that said:
Big Kid was relieved to hear he'd be returning. He had left Santa a note that said:
and yesterday wrote Harold a note that said:
Big Kid rated Harold a 3 out of 5 on the elf satisfaction survey. He may love Harold, but won't rate him more than average. His sense of honesty just won't allow it.
Harold did leave them a marble run set (120 pieces--thanks a freaking lot, Harold!) and a big pile of snow. Pretty magical for Florida kids:
On Harold's last days, he:
Regardless, it was a magical Christmas.
Around 5:30 a.m. I heard thumps, scraping and paper crinkling from the family room. Certain that Big Kid had woken up and was investigating or the grinch himself had come to steal Christmas (because a feverish little kid was next to me in bed speaking in tongues about Santa, so I knew it wasn't him), I got up and crept out of my room.
There was Big Kid, lit softly from the glow of the Christmas lights, looking impossibly tall in his new pajamas and holding a plastic grocery bag full of his own carefully wrapped gifts that he was thoughtfully arranging under the tree. He turned and saw me, eyes glossy and cheeks flushed with excitement and motioned toward the Christmas tree full of gifts, telling me that Santa had already come and that he couldn't believe he had forgotten to put his gifts to us under the tree the night before.
I think it will go down in history as one of my favorite Christmas memories; that among all of those brightly wrapped new things for him, he was thinking about his gifts to us and was excited to contribute to the pile of presents.
I forced him to go back to bed with me but after 5 minutes of him rigidly lying next to me and disturbing the quiet with his occasional excited whisper, I told him to go lie on the couch and read something from his stocking for 20 minutes or so and then to get back into bed. He scampered off happily.
I woke again an hour later, noticing that he was not back in bed and found him stuck in a kitchen bar stool.
"What are you doing?" I asked.
"I'm stuck in this bar stool. But read this stuff Harold left!" he answered, waving excitedly to our elf satisfaction survey, behavior summary report and the note on the kitchen island in front of him.
"You're stuck??" I tried to tug on him from behind but he was indeed stuck. "How long have you been stuck?"
"Ah, 5 minutes, maybe? But read the stuff, mom!"
"Were you going to call for me? I feel bad that you're stuck."
"I was going to call for you, but later. I know you're tired. Read the stuff." It took some wriggling and pulling but I did manage to free him from the bar stool and kept him quiet for one more hour until it was a reasonable time for present opening (if you can call 7:30am a reasonable time for present opening).
The kids loved their gifts; even poor little kid who stayed curled up on the couch, too sick to play with any of his toys. At one point he told me, "When I think of the presents you got for me, it makes me feel warm in my heart." That made me feel so warm in my heart. It made the sub-human conditions at Toys R Us worth all of the trouble.
They were also extremely proud of what they had gotten me. Big Kid bought me a singing snowman figure and a clip-on light.
"This will be perfect for my Nook!" I exclaimed over the light.
"Oh, I didn't even think of that! I saw you could clip it to your clothes or your car visor and I thought you could use that to have light wherever you went but it would be good for your Nook too!" (To his future spouse--I apologize for the practical presents in your future.)
little kid bought me a set of soap and lip gloss and swoons over how pretty I smell every time I get out of the shower, pumping me for information on how enjoyable the shower was and if it was the soap he bought that made it so wonderful.
They are grateful and generous little souls.
There was brief sadness over Harold's departure but he left a note that said:
"Love you guys lots, but it's time to go. Don't forget about me and have fun in the snow. A Merry Christmas to you, all smiles, no tears, and please do not worry for I'll be back next year! (Like it or not, mom!) Laughter and Love, Harold Hubert Piggybottom."
Big Kid was relieved to hear he'd be returning. He had left Santa a note that said:
Dear Santa,
Thank you for bringing Harold. I really had fun with him. Can you keep me a promise??? Please bring Harold back next year. I liked Harold.
Love,
Big Kid
P.S. Don't spank Harold for the potty jokes.
and yesterday wrote Harold a note that said:
Dear Harold,
I hope you have a good new year. I will always remember December 1st, 2010.
Your Harold Liker,
Big Kid
P.S. I'm liking that marble set.
Big Kid rated Harold a 3 out of 5 on the elf satisfaction survey. He may love Harold, but won't rate him more than average. His sense of honesty just won't allow it.
Harold did leave them a marble run set (120 pieces--thanks a freaking lot, Harold!) and a big pile of snow. Pretty magical for Florida kids:
Drove the pedal car.
Sent a personalized message from Santa.
Watched a movie called "Elf Bowling"
Covered the tree in new underwear.
and wore a Christmas sweater for Christmas Eve. He looks good, doesn't he?
And Christmas in my Christmas-crazy neighborhood? Was breathtakingly magical. Everyone lined the streets with luminaries and there was singing, and outdoor fires (not from the luminaries, fun and safe outdoor fires that were there on purpose), and even a 10 piece brass band. It made me understand why they are all so Christmas-crazy.
And that concludes Christmas.
Although it was magical, I'm kind of glad that it's over.
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